


Que Si El Invierno Viene Frío (Quiero Estar Junto A Ti)

by NoctisXit



Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Minor Violence, Reincarnation, Romance, Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:13:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28282992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoctisXit/pseuds/NoctisXit
Summary: "...but now, in the quiet moments, after Ichigo stopped throwing a fit about the way he put together their nest (yes, 'murdering' the pillows was a necessary part, suck it, Kurosaki'), and Grimmjow held him, keeping him safe from the cold and the demons conjured by his mind and lurking in the darkness, the arrancar could say that was the closest he could get at being whole once again.And it was sappy and stupid, but so was Ichigo, so at least it made sense."
Relationships: Grimmjow Jaegerjaques/Kurosaki Ichigo
Comments: 6
Kudos: 111
Collections: GrimIchi Secret Santa Exchange 2020





	Que Si El Invierno Viene Frío (Quiero Estar Junto A Ti)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [quarter_life_crisis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/quarter_life_crisis/gifts).



> Here's my present for the GrimmIchi Secret Santa, the gift is for quarter_life_crisis, I really hope you like it! I think I used a bit of everything, so I hope it's not too messy, uh, yeah. 
> 
> The song used for this was 'La Fuerza del Destino' by Mecano.

When he first came to be, Grimmjow couldn't make sense of a lot of things, at least, for what he could recall. There was an unidentified _before_ and _after_ in regards of what he used to be, _who_ he used to be, previous to the unending hunger. Thinking of it, his life in general was plagued by a lot of those _befores_ and _afters._

Whatever. 

The beginnings of his _after-_ 'life' as a hollow, when he was barely sentient, unable to understand himself, what he was, the things that surrounded him, moving at the mercies of instincts that felt foreign and _natural_ in almost equal amounts _,_ with the cold of an eternal night clinging to the precarity of his skin and bones, as feeble as the white sands that surrounded everything he could see, thinking only of _survival, seeking shelter_ , _finding prey._

Becoming stronger, bigger. More lethal. _To consume._

More and more _and more!_

Until he was satisfied. 

His first meal remains idly present on his thoughts, the first taste of something entirely new and delicious, a soul, raw energy filling him and becoming part of what he was, building to the meek bits and pieces of a consciousness trying to adapt and learn, growing sharper and more capable with every successful hunt, every new kill that added to his knowledge. Making him more than just instinct, crafty, capable, helping him understand his position and composition in the world whose only rule was to fight and kill, for power, for control. 

At some point or another, mere _human_ souls had stopped being enough, other _hollows,_ he had realized, were far more tasty, an actual challenge, and he had enjoyed this new thrill, finding the heady stench and flavor of reiryoku being strangely addictive, things turned hazy at certain moments of his existence as a menos, then gillian, too fused with a bunch of others, all drowning in each other, the hunger and despair, wants heavy and powerful, and _suffocating._ But he had fought and tore apart the pitiful remnants of mild sentience and existences that also strived to impose above the rest, 'til he put them to use to build himself, completely, and they became his, and nothing at all aside from that, and he was _king._

An adjuchas, with a name, and a purpose. 

He roamed the expanses of Hueco Mundo like a predator searching for a challenge, he never hunted anything that wasn't at least twice his size, or represented some actual fun, of course, he never denied weaker hollow the chance to die between his teeth. 

The time he didn't spend moving through the immensity of the desert, he used to build a safe den where he could explore the depths of knowledge acquired at the expense of every entity he consumed. It was useful when it came to track other possible prey, and to distract himself when he felt compelled to laze around, traces of humanity lingering in pieces that were foreing to his new existence and that were oddly satisfying to put together to make some semblance of sense again. There were some lingering wishes, too. Emotions and unfulfilled desires. 

At some point, he had come to realize that, a lot of hollows and souls alike, tended to miss similar things: the flavor of certain _foods,_ the sensation of warmth, the tenderness of a touch and caress… from a loved one, or even more fiercely, of a _soulmate._

With enough strength to stay as a remainder of a particular type of comfort that could linger as a quiet call to some, even after death. 

Grimmjow thought of it as something beyond pitiful, snarling when those kinds of sensations tried to stick to him for longer than what he allowed them, even when they felt a bit more personal, like remains of a far off existence catching up to him. 

_Memories of a blue sky and ocean, the touch of sun-kissed skin and strong hands against human cheeks, hair colored like the dying sun framing a soft smile, and trails upon trails of orange and blue._

A scoff, shaking ghost touch that he knew was unexisting, and the aching that could only be sated by reprieve he would possibly never find. 

Oh, of course he could dedicate an eternity to search for his supposed 'other half', many hollows did, some driven by impulse, others by a more 'logical' purpose, under the hope and pretense that they would make them whole again. Except the consumption of those souls only brought along an even bigger insatisfaction, a faux completeness that dissipated like any other meal, but left behind an even bigger despair, vicious hunger. Many of the idiots that sought out their soulmates and devoured them only managed to bring torture upon themselves, careless of their existence, trapped in a madness they could never escape, no matter how many souls they ate, how strong they become. 

So it would be utter stupidity to look for something that would be a damn weakness, standing in the way of his goal to become a Vasto Lorde, the strongest predator to trek through existence. Someone that had nothing to offer him, considering the fact that cuts and bites meant only a mild annoyance to his hierro at that point, things like playful touches, or sweet kisses, would mean less than nothing, barely-there-sensations that he wouldn't even get to acknowledge. He was not weak anymore, the chill of eternal night and million of pinpricks of sand did nothing to him. Grimmjow didn't give a damn about warmth, or menial comforts of a humanity long gone, he only cared about the next bout of adrenaline of a good fight, a well earned meal and fulfillment of growing reiatsu he could exploit. He cared for nothing but becoming the last thing a hollow could be, finding his completion. 

And if he found himself too caught up in the reprieve of memories of a tender embrace, of soft hazel eyes, or the promise of a _future_ next to _someone,_ then those were moments of weakness of all the others that had keeled over and died by his hand. Because Grimmjow would rather offer himself to be eaten by some random _menos_ before he admitted he yearned for something like a comforting touch. 

[...] 

Time passed, Grimmjow continued to become stronger, ruthless, drunk on spiritual energy and centered on his goal. At some point he even managed to get himself a pack of followers, fellow adjuchas that bowed down to him after he made it clear he wouldn't hesitate to tear them to shreds, specially after one of them was stupid enough to try and get a bite out of him, that had costed the bastard a piece of his own face. He would lie if he said he hadn't found satisfaction on their request of acting as their leader towards the objective they all appeared to share, and he had accepted their offer, afterall, what was a _king_ without followers? 

Shawlong, Edrad, Yylfordt, Nakeem and Di Roy had then become a constant, out of their own persistence, if Grimmjow had to admit, they worked to keep up with him, to prove their power and strength as was required of whatever he chose to hunt. They were good company, too, loyal and reliable, so he answered in kind, as to prove that he was worthy of leadership and that no one could take up his place. And if he felt the slightlest bit of security and satisfaction when he felt himself surrounded by the group of adjuchas while they idled around the den they were occupaying at the time, then that only translated as his pride of being a good fucking king. So they trained, and bonded, though their progress to achieve the status of Vasto Lorde appeared to be stagnant, in a limbo where it appeared no matter how much souls they consumed, the reiryoku inside them appeared to remain practically the same. It frustrated Grimmjow to no end, but he wasn't just going to give in, not even after the fools that followed him dared to suggest giving up, pointing out what he had already came to realize, offering themselves to him, on the hopes that he, at least, could manage what they could not. 

Damned bastards, fucking insulting his cappability of reaching his full potential on his own, he had been clear about what he thought of their apparent surrender and sacrifice, he would not accept that sort of cowardice in his pack, so what if they couldn't turn into a Vasto Lorde? They could still follow Grimmjow, work the power that they had strived to create. If they couldn't even do that, then they could await death at the hands of whatever found them, and consider themselves without a king, because Grimmjow didn't rule weaklings. 

[...]

His pack stayed at his side. Grimmjow never allowed himself to dwell much on the feeling of ease that made him feel. 

When Aizen appeared in front of them, offering more power, the opportunity to perhaps reach what they were searching for. He also didn't dare linger in the slightest twinge of _something else_ that swirled around him after the other adjuchas decided to follow him into this step towards the unknown. It wasn't fucking _~~affection~~. _Though, maybe, it could be. 

[...] 

Things as a member of Aizen's army didn't change much for him, sure, he had to technically answer to the authority of someone else, but that didn't mean much when he was getting something in return, being surrounded by other high-level hollow gave him the rush of adrenaline of a good fight he hadn't felt in a long time, the possibility to see his growing power in a tangible way, as he made his way through the numbers the shinigami traitor had assigned them, Grimmjow could feel that he was working out of the hole he had fell through for some time now. He felt high on power. Exploring the new abilities brought forward by the acquisition of his Zanpakuto. 

_'Pantera',_ she had presented herself, sounding mighty and prideful, pleased with Grimmjow, deigning him wild and worthy of the power she would grant him. 

Grimmjow liked her, most of the time, she was vicious and witty, and a soothing presence at the back of his mind. They could make sense of each other and support the intentions they had, but sometimes Pantera would poke at things Grimmjow didn't want to give the time of the day, pulling at the remnants of memories he preferred to ignore (of shared affection, and harsh and pretty hazel eyes), the only proof of the weakness that plagued him. Intrigued and teasing. Driving Grimmjow mad at her constant questions and reminders. 

He preferred her when she focused on the ways they could beat a new enemy, or explore the new ways that he could apply his reiatsu, or annoy that gloomy motherfucker called Ulquiorra so that he _would fight him, damn it._

In any case, his desicion of joining whatever stupid chase of power Aizen had going on, proved to be not such a shitty desicion after all. 

[...] 

Grimmjow hadn't mean much aside from fucking with Ulquiorra and 'fixing' what he thought to be a loose end when he had returned to the human world to beat up those shinigamis they had met, he had brought along his pack, because he trusted they could hold their own, and so, he had gone off to find a prey of his own. The woman had proved to be a disappointment, too focused on _warning_ her companion than focusing on the threat, her mistake, Grimmjow had taken her out quickly, and then turned his focus to the boy. 

There was something… familiar, about him, the fiery and concerned hazel eyes, the sun-kissed skin. Grimmjow shook away the sense of deja-vu, the dull thrumm of _want_ inside him, and the curious hum that Pantera made at the back of his mind, instead, he focused on the cruelty of pulling a challenge out of the youngman in front of him, goading him into fighting with everything he had. 

His power was nothing extraordinary, even after the release of his Zankaputo, some elevated speed and nothing else. But the way his skin bloomed with trails upon trails of blue wherever Grimmjow kicked and punched against his body. It left something akin to the most pleasant fire he had ever felt coursing through his veins. 

He felt the surprise and fear, radiating from the other, a rush of something unexplained coming out of himself, too, Pantera roaring in a way he had never heard before, thrilled and offended in equal amounts, and he was drowning in familiarity and mystery. And the shinigami _kept fighting._ Grimmjow expressed his disappointment on his strength, and the anger the shinigami exuded was… intoxicating. 

Then a wave of pure reiatsu was moving at him, stunned, he didn't move out of the way, feeling the burn of raw power breaking through his hierro, stinging, making him _bleed._ Grimmjow smiled, wide and full of exhilaration, _this… This was it!_ A challenge, a rival. 

~~_His soulmate._ ~~

Tousen had chosen that moment to appear, bringing Grimmjow out of whatever mental state he was falling into, the threat of punishment for his defiance hanging heavy over him. He relented without putting much of a fight, if only to avoid more consequences that could get in the way of him getting another fight against the shinigami at his feet. 

When the boy shouted at him, _demanding_ he stayed to _finish their fight,_ he couldn't help but answer back. Mocking, even when in his mind, he could only hear a pleased hiss. 

_'Yes, yes! Come and find us!'_ Pantera howled. Grimmjow ignored the meaning behind her demand. 

[...] 

Grimmjow had lost an arm and his number, to say he was angry would be a misunderstanding, he was _appalled, furious._ Pantera growled inside him, rabid in her own desire for retribution, and he would be lying if he said he didn't wish for it as well, he found it stupid of Aizen, doing this to _him,_ one of his strongest members, and replacing him for someone as pathetic as _Luppi._

(He also lost his pack, but he wouldn't allow himself to grieve for them, because their defeat only meant that they couldn't keep up with him anymore, their time had come and he had to keep going to prove that he could really lead them to where they wanted to get, even if they weren't around to see it. It was a matter of honor, ~~keeping up the illusion of disinterest~~ ). 

Regardless of it, there was something that prevented him from feeling like the whole thing was a complete waste. Better said, _someone,_ made it seem like he gained more than what he had lost. 

[...] 

The next time he went to earth, he did so under direct orders of Aizen, he arrived, in apparent carelessness, excitement thrumming under his hierro as he scanned for a well-known pair of eyes and hair colored like the dying sun. When he didn't find him around the rest of shinigami, he growled. Feeling at something inside him _tug,_ commanding his whole body to _move._ He did so without putting much thought into it. 

When he finally spotted the person he had gone to look for. He couldn't help the way his reiryoku lighted in agitation and desire. He threw himself into battle, barely registering the mask covering the face of the shinigami. 

The youngman fought differently than last time, all jagged edges and raw power, he was moving to _maim_ and _kill,_ no doubt, no mercy, it made Grimmjow feel equal amounts amazed and drunk with excitement. 

He had known this one was _special, worthy of his time,_ _~~a good soulmate~~. _And here was the proof, on seering reiatsu, on the sensation coursing through his hierro, the rush of adrenaline going through his body. The growing streaks of orange painting his skin. 

When he finally managed to get a hit in, he felt the disappearance of the intense power he had witnessed, following the crumbling of the mask that had covered the face of the shinigami, but it didn't matter, he had _seen_ what the human could do, gotten a good fight that continued for a bit longer. And if he ended it now, he wouldn't feel real disappointment. 

People got in the way, again, and he couldn't get close, couldn't get the last blow, feel the satisfaction of touching, managing to get another punch to adorn the face of the boy. 

Pantera growled, dissatisfied, like him, commanding the human to make their next meeting happen quickly. 

[...] 

In the privacy of his quarters, he eyed the orange markings left on his hierro, over some of the scars he got. He ignored the feeling of light satisfaction at their meaning, as well as Pantera's teasing purr. 

He focused only on the scars. The promise of a next fight with him. 

[...] 

Grimmjow helped that other girl out of his own interests, he got back at Luppi for taking his place under the pretense of defending her, Mellony was just a small addition, she had healed him, returned his arm and number. And after getting rid of Ulquiorra, he had demanded the woman to heal the shinigami, Ichigo Kurosaki, his rival, as well. She refused. But Grimmjow was not above forcing her to cooperate, because she _didn't understand,_ couldn't feel the ache growing inside of him, the demand that he touched and marked that skin under his fists, his claws and teeth. 

Then Kurosaki had grabbed his arm, it thrummed, pleasantly, despite the force put into the hold, Grimmjow was thrown back, while the human convinced the girl to heal him. 

And then, finally, _finally,_ they could _fight._

The same rush of adrenaline, raw power and feeling of electricity whenever he managed to get a punch or kick in, and when he felt the impact of the attacks of Kurosaki in him. 

He felt he could drown in this feeling, experience it forever, it wasn't fulfillment, not quite, but it was the closest Grimmjow had felt to it, so high on the pleasure of a good fight, ~~delicious touch,~~ he almost didn't want it to end. 

He was full of violence. 

He felt _joyous._

[...] 

Kurosaki beat him. Beat him and then refused to end him, _mercy,_ a part of Grimmjow supplied, and he hissed, offended at the damned shinigami, and the part of him that dared to feel _touched_ by the gesture. 

He didn't acknowledge the way his wrist pulsed with lingering comfort, orange like rays of sunlight, and just as warm. 

He would get revenge for this humiliation ~~,~~ ~~for being left vulnerable and unprotected~~ , for being treated as less important to whatever pitiful reason Kurosaki had to leave him for dead, discarded as nothing but trash. Something inside him hurt at the thought, but he ignored it. 

Grimmjow was really good at doing that, and focusing on making it out of the new mess Kurosaki had left him in. 

[...] 

_Kurosaki stayed to protect him._

Grimmjow was tired, perhaps slightly delirious, Pantera was chittering around him, concerned, trying to be soothing. Of course Nnoitra, the little _bastard,_ had decided to take advantage and get rid of him while he was barely out of a damned good fight. Just a step away from dying. Opportunist, _coward._

_Kurosaki had been barely better off than he was, but he had stepped in on his behalf._

Grimmjow would kill him, the both of them, for doing this to him. 

_Kurosaki was noble, he was safe._

For the insult to his pride. 

_Kurosaki was strong, a good rival._

Grimmjow would heal, become stronger, and he would get them for this. 

_A good mate._

[...] 

A long time passed before Grimmjow had enough strength to move again, much less to seek out his rival. He had unfinished business that he needed to settle with him, since Nnoitra was already dead, and Aizen wasn't around anymore, Grimmjow was back at being his own boss, sure, technically, Hallibel was the leader of Hueco Mundo by law, but he didn't really care about that, and he wanted retribution, so the moment he felt ready, he opened a garganta and stepped to a well-known town, scowling, he looked through the streets in boredom, annoyance growing when he wasn't able to spot the person he had come looking for, nor the distinctive feeling of a strong spiritual pressure. So Grimmjow followed the tug that would guide him to Kurosaki, wherever he was. 

There was something… off, about the connection, though, it felt taut, a step away from breaking, it made something uneasy to move inside of him, but Grimmjow squashed the concern and kept moving forward, getting anxious would help shit and he needed to find him. 

~~Make sure Kurosaki was safe.~~

When Grimmjow found Kurosaki, the shinigami was inside a room, Grimmjow could only guess it was his, he looked fine, in the physical sense, at least, though his spiritual presence was… barely there, almost nonexistent, it made something ugly to squirm inside him, and he growled. Kurosaki looked defeated, almost _broken._

And it was _wrong._

_Wrong. Wrong. Wrong._

Where was his power? His fire? 

"Oi!" He snarled, all teeth and unforgiveness, the damn brat didn't even spare him a glance. The fucking nerve! Grimmjow would show him! 

He stalked forward, reiatsu pulsing around him, aggravated "Fucking answer me, Kurosaki!" A howl, as he moved to forcefully grab at the shoulder of the shinigami, the youngman tensed, yelping, standing up and looking around the room wildly. Wide-eyed, fear mixing with surprise, as he clutched desperately at the shoulder Grimmjow just had touched. 

The arrancar could only watch, astonished by the reaction, before he could say anything else. The human gapped, picking at the opening on his shirt and pulling it away slightly to reveal skin marred in blue, letting out a shuddering breath and stumbling forward, as if he was searching in the dark for something, _someone._

"Grim… Grimmjow?" He called, voice strained. Hopeful? 

Grimmjow frowned, taking a step forward himself. "What the fuck are you trying to do, Kurosaki?" He scoffed, standing in front of the shinigami, just an inch away from the hand that was reaching forward. 

The youngman didn't answer him, gulping loudly, using his other hand to rub at his head, mildly desperate, before taking a deep breath. 

"O-Okay. Okay." He said finally, more to himself than anyone else "Just… just be real, please." 

Kurosaki finally said, determined, to the room in general, before taking another small step forward, hand reaching out, connecting with Grimmjow's chest. The human shuddered, Grimmjow did, too, just a bit, feeling the same burn he had come to associate with the shinigami. 

Kurosaki choked in his next breath, eyes trailing upwards until they almost met with Grimmjow's, the arrancar could only stand there, confused and beyond lost regarding the whole ordeal. "What the fuck-" 

And before he could finish the next sentence, Kurosaki stumbled forward, holding Grimmjow as if he was some sort of life-line, the edge of a sob falling from his lips, alongside broken laughter. Grimmjow felt beyond lost, unsure of what he was supposed to do, so he just stood there, looking at the youngman clinging to him. What exactly did he miss during the time he spent healing his wounds? 

_And what was he supposed to do right now?_

_Shit._

Grimmjow didn't do comfort, he had no idea how, he searched through the knowledge and memories he had acquired through his after-life, searching for anything remotely useful that could help him with the mess he was holding. 

"Ah, fuck it." He said after a few seconds, awkwardly moving one of his hands to pat at the hair of the shinigami. "Uh… there, there." The human's breath hitched, choking with a bit of laughter. 

Shit, he was terrible at this, but fuck, this was Kurosaki's fault for deciding to have a fucking breakdown with him of all creatures. 

His light petting might have done something, because Kurosaki started to calm down after a few minutes, taking another deep breath before moving back slightly, Grimmjow allowed him, ignoring the pang of disappointment he felt due to the loss of contact. Instead, he continued to frown, looking down at Kurosaki. 

He felt a small surge of pride at seeing him in a slightly better mental place than when he had first showed up through his window. 

The human coughed, hand moving to the back of his neck, lingering for a second over the spot Grimmjow had been touching, eyes looking at an unspecified part of the opposite wall, finally he gathered himself enough to speak again: "I, uh, sorry about that. I guess." 

_That was so lame._ Grimmjow scoffed, good to know he wasn't the only one that had no idea how to act in this whole situation, figuring there was something more complex at play, not only for the weird reaction to his touch, along the other… _everything_ that had happened so far, he opted to give the shinigami the time to explain. Unless he felt compelled enough to voice out loud a piece of his mind. 

"I suppose I should explain why I reacted like that, huh?" Ichigo mused, letting his body fall back at his desk chair, looking at the roof of his room, and then trying to focus on the point where he thought Grimmjow might be standing. 

_Grimmjow,_ of all the people he had met during his time as a… shinigami, he was the last one he expected to come to look for him, though, maybe because he wasn't sure if the arrancar had survived _at all._ The thought made something ugly pang at his chest, so he decided to shake it out of his mind, specially because the Espada was _here,_ with him, he came when no one else _would._

_Ugh, he needed to focus._

"So, um, turns out I defeated Aizen, awesome, right?" Kurosaki started, Grimmjow gapped slightly at the revelation, he figured Aizen had gotten his ass kicked, and that Kurosaki had most likely helped, but to hear that _he_ had been the one directly responsible to that was more than just _pretty awesome, fuck,_ though the bitter edge that had accompanied the phrase made Grimmjow frown, something wasn't right with that, which wasn't new in this whole thing at this point. "I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm glad that asshole is captured and can't go around hurting others anymore. It's just…" He paused, somber, lips forming a tight line, head falling back, eyes blinking rapidly as if trying to get rid of tears. "I just had to give away a big chunk of my own _fucking_ soul." 

Grimmjow hissed, stumbling back, Kurosaki had _what!? Why!?_ He felt insulted, even when he wasn't the one affected, he understood the kind of issue that Aizen represented, the type of bastard that he was. But a single person sacrificing so much to beat him, and the people around him just allowing it!? What kind of fucked up shit was that!? 

"But it's not really a big deal, right? I mean. I saved my town, my family and my… my friends." Ichigo continued, probably trying to convince himself more than the arrancar in his room "I just lost the means to protect them." _A part of who I am._

Grimmjow bristled, feeling the need to punch through something, preferently alive, like the stupid human infront of him, that was such a load of _bullshit._

So he said it loud and clear "That's bullshit, Kurosaki!" He growled, seeing how the human started to get lost in thought, so he stalked forward, punching, hard, the furniture next to the human. The youngman jumped, startled, looking at him with doe eyes, pretty and nauseating. Grimmjow snarled at him, frustrated for his inability at communicating. 

He looked around him, eyes focusing in the hole his fist had left on the surface of the desk, an idea forming on his head. He started to carve with one of his nails. 

_'Bullshit.'_

It was shaky, and really awful, but still legible, so it served its purpose. Kurosaki watched in rapt attention as he wrote the word, scowling lightly, defensive. 

"Well? What would you know!? You just showed up out of nowhere, it has been months!" Kurosaki snarled at him, flickers of an old flame dancing behind his offense "I think I know what this whole thing means to me!" 

Grimmjow scoffed at that. _'It upsets you, idiot.'_

Ichigo bristled "Of course it upsets me! It was my soul! My powers! Zangetsu…!" He choked again, eyes stinging "Damn it." 

_'Just fucking cry about it.'_ Grimmjow rolled his eyes _'It's a goddamn shitty thing that you went through,'_ After thinking for a bit he added _'So what if it was "for the greater good" or some bullshit? You still got hurt. Cry a fucking river if you want to.'_

It was crude, and probably mean, but whatever, if Kurosaki wanted to bawl his eyes out, so be it, expressing whatever he felt was better than playing the role of selfless martyr and shit. Besides, Grimmjow wouldn't be able to fight him if he was like that. 

There was no other reason why he stayed around, none at all.

In any case, his prompting appeared to serve its purpose, if the way Kurosaki started to spill his heart out meant anything. 

He talked about the war, his fears, the brave face he had to put up, feeling how a part of him was ripped away, like he lost almost everything that made him who he was, of the coddling of his sisters, how sick he was of it, of his so called friends and how they appeared to be avoiding him. Of how he thought he saved everything he could when he won the war, just to feel like he had lost all of it regardless. 

"You are the first... someone to come to see me." He confesses as well, smiling wirely, Grimmjow felt progressively more compelled to seek out a lot of people and beat them to death. 

In the end, he just stood there, writing out the occasional quip, prompting a snort or grimace on the human depending on how offensive he tried to be. 

_'Fucking better?'_ He asked in the end. 

Kurosaki scowled, scoffing "...Yeah." He conceded in the end. "Thank you." 

_'Don't mention it.'_ After a second, he added _'Seriously, or I will fucking kill you.'_

That made Kurosaki snort "I will take your word for it, mister asshole with a heart of gold." 

Grimmjow growled, piercing the surface of the desk with all his claws before, leaving five big indents, to finish it off, he pushed Kurosaki out of his chair and wrote _'Fuck off.'_ in big noticeable letters. 

Kurosaki yelped, but snickered, huffing when he saw his latest addition, as an afterthought he mentioned "We will have to think of another method of communicating if you are planning to stick around."

Grimmjow snorted, of course he was going to stick around, Kurosaki _owed him_ , and he was the only one there to protect him, to ensure he paid his dues, obviously. Didn't mean he would make it a nice experience for the human. 

_'I will do what I want.'_ It's what he writes in the end. 

[...] 

A few weeks later, since Grimmjow had really stuck around, visits becoming more and more frequent with each passing day, Kurosaki had finally brought forward the idea of getting him a gigai. 

"Listen, I appreciate having around someone to write obscenities in my desk and... pretty much everything I own, as much as the next person, but I have to give you an actual reason to stop vandalizing my stuff" The human hissed, when Grimmjow hadn't deigned him with a signal that he had been listening, he frowned, then added "Besides, I know you are pretty much dying to get in a fight with me, and I also want to punch you pretty fucking badly," Now, _that,_ caught Grimmjow's attention "So this is probably the most inmediate answer to our prayers."

Grimmjow smirked, all teeth and amused instict, manipulative idiot _'You little shit, I'm in.'_

He ignored the feeling of happiness that Kurosaki's pleased smile caused him. 

[...] 

The next day had found them standing in front of a pretty average candy shop, Grimmjow had raised an eyebrow, wondering if Kurosaki had brought him to the right place, until the human let out a huff and started to march forward, opening the door and looking inside the store warily. Grimmjow followed, intrigued, and a second later staring directly at some shady looking motherfucker. 

_Shinigami,_ if the reiryoku surrounding him was anything to go by. 

"Ichigo! What an... unexpected surprise!" The man started, making exaggereted movements and stepping forward, as if trying to push them out "Sorry if I act a bit rude, but I don't think it's wise for you to stay around, I don't see how this old store owner could do anything for you." 

He continued to ramble, not allowing Kurosaki to get a single word out, at the very least Grimmjow knew that he was honestly apologetic about his actions. That didn't make him any less pissed off by them. 

"... Alas! I was just preparing to go out in any case, so maybe you could return later. Goodbye!" And just like that, the door was closed in their face, Kurosaki still trying to let out the speech he had prepared, Grimmjow could feel the anger and annoyance coming out of him. 

He also felt the dissapointment and sadness. 

"Guess it was a lost cause after all." The human sighed finally, posture falling, he had to admit that the obvious attempts at pushing him out of his old life hurt, pretty badly, he still needed to face it with some dignity, so he turned to where he figured the arrancar might be standing, ready to call off the whole thing "Seems like we will have to keep up like we have been doing, right, Grimmjow?" 

Except the ex-Espada didn't answer him, and instead, he heard the crunching of wood as it was stepped on harshly, seeing the door at Urahara's shop being kicked open a second later. Ichigo gapped, then shouted after the arrancar, scrambling to follow him. 

Grimmjow ignored him for the time being, attention focusing on the shitty shinigami "Yo!" He started, posture becoming intimidating, fangs glimming menacingly "That's not the fucking way to treat costumers." 

"Ah, well, this establishment reserves the right to turn down certain costumers, you see." The shinigami answered, seemingly placating, but Grimmjow didn't miss the way he moved one of his hands to clutch more firmly at the stave he was holding. Grimmjow grunted. 

"Even when that costumer saved the asses of everyone on this realm and probably of everywhere else?" A hiss, accusatory and cruel, he saw the way the comment made the shinigami flinch, though it was difficult to read his expression, hidden behind that stupid hat and fan. 

"It was not a desicion I made for myself." The man states, sourly, Grimmjow snorted. 

"Great, so you don't have to follow it, unless you let others boss you around." A very obvious taunt, the shinigami made an amused sound.

"I'm compelled to follow a bit of advice when it has the... best interests of someone in mind." Urahara tried to justify, rather weakly, if only because he didn't truly believe the words himself, he was also trying to make sense of why an arrancar of all creatures was standing inside his shop, clearly making demands in the name of a boy that had been an enemy of theirs. 

It was kind of ironic an enemy was proving to be more reliable than the lot of friends and 'allies' they were supposed to be. 

"Great, then forget about that shit, since it's clearly not in the best interests of little strawberry over here." Grimmjow moved quickly, grabbing hold of Kurosaki where he had stood, trying to make sense of what he could perceive of the exchange "Don't you think?" 

Urahara couldn't hide his surprise, not the amused and knowing smile that curled his lips when he saw the blue and orange markings now adorning the skin of the two men standing in front of him. Well, wasn't that quiet interesting and self-explanatory? 

He relented "I think you might be right, though, I will admit I'm going against the wishes of an important figure on Ichigo's life by consenting to this meeting." He snickered "But I believe that won't be a problem for me." 

Grimmjow smirked "Tell that asshole that if he has any complaints, he can solve them with me." Then he snarled at the shinigami "Provided you give us what we came to look for." 

"Of course, of course. Let's what we can work out, yes?" Urahara hummed, entertained, turning to look at Ichigo "I think I owe you an apology, and the time to listen to what you came to ask, so let's discuss it in the back, shall we?" 

Ichigo looked at him, stunned, after a beat, he hissed "Wait, really!?" 

"Your companion here has been rather... convincing, I have to admit." Urahara commented, trying to sound nonchalant. 

Ichigo snorted "Was he?" He eyed suspiciously at his back, starting to follow Urahara before he frowned "He didn't threaten you or something, right?" 

"Nothing of the sort!" Urahara snickered, taking a more serious before stopping to look at him "He just made a good point. We do owe a lot to you, Ichigo." He admitted, honest. 

Ichigo looked at him, wide-eyed, fumbling with how to respond, before sighing "It isn't a big deal."

"Perhaps not! But tell me..." Kisuke stopped, turning to face him, full of mirth and curiosity "What can I do for you and your friend over there?" 

Ichigo faced him with security, brows furrowed and a smile peaking at the corner of his lips "Grimmjow wants to get a gigai." 

A few steps back, the arrancar felt his lips curl up, satisfied.

[...] 

The months after that are the clearer memories Grimmjow has of a long period of his life, he had taken to spend big amounts of time at Kurosaki's room, pushing him around, in the psychological and literal sense. Grimmjow urged Kurosaki to train physically and to keep it together emotionally.

He ignored Pantera and her annoying pleased rumbling at his 'protectiveness', as if he was acting out of the kindness of his heart or some shit, this was all about the bigger picture, managing to get the last fight Kurosaki had to give him, only that. _Fucking hell, annoying Zanpakuto._

He also terrorized the visits he received (his sisters were off-limits, though he took the liberty to leave them a few 'notes' regarding how to approach their brother, just a tiny _'He is not made of fucking glass, damn it',_ nothing else, they had appeared to take the recomendation), raided his fridge when no one was looking, clawing his walls with curses and crude messages and hurling a few objects at the excuse of a father that the youngman had, if only because the old shinigami pissed him off. 

All in all, he was nothing but the most annoying guest he could be. But Kurosaki didn't seem to mind, aside from some scoffs and threats ('The moment Urahara finishes your gigai or I get back my powers, I'm so going to beat your ass, you asshole!'), Grimmjow was sure that if the human had been capable to spot him half of the time, he would have thrown at him a few heavy stuff already, he at least knew for sure that Ichigo would have thrown him out of a window more than twice. Since he had already done so once, when Grimmjow had been too distracted laughing at his latest prank and the petty little shit had been able to catch him still standing next to the open window. 

All in all, things were going pretty well. At the very least, it didn't look like Kurosaki was a step away from the deep end anymore. 

[...] 

  
  


It was still a bit weird to be inside a 'body', but, at the very least, there was something undeniably beatiful about being able to finally feel the burnt of Kurosaki's fists conecting against his face, tainting his skin in such a tangible way, more intimate than the sensation caused as direct consequence to their proximity. There was something just oddly satisfying about being able to feel, so clearly, the weight and warmth that came naturally to the human. 

Every punch and kick was an experience full of meaning for him in their brutally. The care of nibble fingers exploring his new 'body', to heal and cover new wounds, was something almost sacred in the way it made something entirely different inside him curl up pleasently. 

Grimmjow was... content.

[...] 

Kurosaki appeared to be satisfied to know he could kick him around properly, and then kiss it better within the next minute or so, Grimmjow wasn't exactly complaining, it was still a win for him. 

Speaking of that, Grimmjow wasn't really sure who had started it, he would insist it wasn't him, but it's not like anyone would ask. He was referring to the exchange of casual touches, not punches or kicks, or pinches, just a hand placed softly at the top of the head or cheek, a reassuring press at the back of the neck, holding the other as they slept, the idle trace of fingers while doing something else, not just with the purpose of bandaging or treating wounds. It was new, but also a familiar tenderness and comforting warmth. 

It makes something old and fuzzy to churn inside of Grimmjow, and he swears he hates it but can't help but fall slowly into the spell it conjures upon him. It's… nice. It reminds him of the remnants of memories buried, and the safety he kinda felt when it was just him and his pack on a small den. It's similar to the electricity he felt when he and Ichigo exchange kicks and punches in battles that were supposed to end with one of them, and he knew he had stated those were the moments he had felt closest to fulfillment, but now, in the quiet moments, after Ichigo stopped throwing a fit about the way he put together _their nest (yes, 'murdering' the pillows was a necessary part, suck it, Kurosaki')_ , and Grimmjow held him, keeping him safe from the cold and the demons conjured by his mind and lurking in the darkness, the arrancar could say _that_ was the closest he could get at being whole once again. 

And it was sappy and stupid, but so was Ichigo, so at least it made sense. 

At the very least, Grimmjow could say he wouldn't mind staying like this for as long as he could, and then some. 

_'Yeah, yeah, you will be late to something and whatever. Shut it, Kurosaki, go back to sleep.'_

**Author's Note:**

> This was probably a big mess, butI hope you liked it! Happy holidays, y'all!


End file.
